


swell the rout

by softlygently (lateralplosion)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Formula One, Ambiguous Relationships, Getting What You Want Versus Getting What You Deserve, M/M, Teammates to Strangers to Something More
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lateralplosion/pseuds/softlygently
Summary: Seokmin wants and wants and wants. Minghao only has so much to give.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	swell the rout

**Author's Note:**

> inspired, incomprehensibly, by max verstappen and daniel ricciardo's recent first podium together since 2017. dia this could only be for you! thank you for the brainworms!!!!!

_ Now you will not swell the rout  
Of lads that wore their honours out,_  
_ Runners whom renown outran  
And the name died before the man._

\- A. E. Housman

The thing is, sex with Seokmin has never been casual. And even when it was casual, Minghao knew that Seokmin would always want too much. But this is what Minghao likes most about him, his greed. It's what propels Seokmin to a win in Malaysia in 2016, to the wins that followed in Azerbaijan, Beijing, Monaco. It's this greed that makes Seokmin _thrive_ , hum like an RB16 power unit on full throttle, reach for things that may have never been his to take, even if he deserved them. Seokmin knew this too. So, at the end of the 2018 season, it's this greed that makes Seokmin leave.

Minghao remembers Malaysia. He remembers watching Seokmin standing on the top step of that podium with the trophy far above his head, his smile bright and wide and gleaming back at him in silver and gold. And Minghao the next step down, his heart swelling beyond the confines of his race suit, watching him, watching the world watch him, and thinking that he wanted to kiss him.

(He _did_ kiss him later, away from prying eyes, the tang of Seokmin's victory still fresh on their tongues and Seokmin's hands on Minghao's waist, in his hair, cupping his jaw.

"If you want this—" Minghao had said, pulling back enough to see Seokmin under the light of the trailer, to study him.

Seokmin only had leant back into his space, always too earnest, always too eager. "I want it," he said, breathless. "I want this— _you_."

So Minghao allowed Seokmin to kiss him again. Seokmin had always wanted so much.)

He allows Seokmin to kiss him now, to push him back against his seat and rut into his lap. They're the only two in the jet now, but the partition separating him from the pilot is only so thick, and Minghao has an avid interest in keeping his private affairs _private_.

He pulls away, angles up a knowing look. " _Seokmin_ —" Minghao is intending for it to come out chiding, but fondness sweetens the admonition, even despite his best efforts. Seokmin only grins, entirely flush and giddy with victory, one well-deserved. Today's race at the Eifel Grand Prix had been dramatic, but Minghao is just glad for second. The most important thing was that Seokmin had finally kept good on his promise and gave the Renault team their podium. After nearly two years, they'd stood together with their trophies, and then Minghao had doused him with Moet & Chandon.

" _Yeah_?" Seokmin breathes, almost like a challenge, and palms Minghao through his pants. It's all Minghao can do to not laugh himself hoarse with want, because Seokmin's intentions have always been so transparent, even from the beginning when Minghao was fresh from Torro Rosso and the expectation lay heavily on his shoulders. He remembers getting fitted for his Red Bull uniform and Seokmin dancing around him, doling out tips like free samples, his smile still so wide and bright. That unexpectedly sweet desire to help him that had struck Minghao in the ribs like a gong, even though they both knew that Minghao's arrival would change the team dynamic completely.

Minghao reads Seokmin's intentions now, the way he gets his hand around Minghao's cock through his clothes, the maddening smile on Seokmin's face, the one that says he knows exactly what he wants. Seokmin has never been able to resist a challenge, and the one that Minghao is presenting him with here is no different than the ones he loves most. This is a push at 300 kilometers an hour, an overtake around the outside of turn 14 in Marina Bay.

(Seokmin had tried this very move last year in Singapore, and nearly sliced the tyres off of Josh Hong's Haas. Renault had boxed him for retirement three laps later.)

Minghao hardens under Seokmin's touch, his body responding to Seokmin's prodding like it hasn't been years since they've done this, and he rolls his eyes. "You're a pain in the ass." Still fond.

Seokmin laughs, breathless and quiet, and pushes down his sweats. "I'm _celebrating_ ," he says, lifting himself up from Minghao's lap enough to shimmy his pants down. "My first podium with a new—"

He stills for a moment, and Minghao can feel him tensing momentarily under his hands. They haven't really talked about this, the storm that's been hanging above them since Seokmin cleared his throat during the 2018 Belgium press conference and announced his departure from Red Bull. But even before then, Minghao had already known that something had been brewing under Seokmin's skin. He hadn't won any races after Monaco that year, and even that same day Seokmin had collided with Sauber's Wonwoo Jeon and retired. But Minghao had a feeling that Seokmin had begun to suspect what Minghao had known for almost an entire year prior—that Red Bull Racing was building its future around their newest racer Minghao Xu, and their former star Seokmin Lee was now only a figure in yesterday's dreams.

Minghao hadn't been able to help any of that. He didn't work his way over from Anshan to let sentimentality get in his way. He'd come here to win, and to take down Mercedes and that godforsaken Mingyu Kim in the Silver Arrow.

Maybe that's what had changed them. Minghao armed to the teeth with his ambition, and Seokmin left with his wants, the things he was reaching for that he knew now no one would give to him. Minghao had not stopped him from leaving. He wonders if Seokmin would have done the same.

Minghao smooths a hand up over Seokmin's back, dipping his fingers into the ridges of his spine. "Hey," he says quietly, and Seokmin's eyes lock onto his. "This is our first podium together. Since—"

"Since Suzuka," Seokmin finishes for him, voice trembling in the quiet. "2017."

Except back then, it had been switched—with Seokmin in second, and Minghao looking up at him from third. They'd still been teammates then, and Seokmin would sometimes sneak kisses from him when he thought no one was looking. Minghao's pretty sure someone had noticed, but Seokmin's fearlessness had been contagious, made him drunk with it.

Seokmin's pants are still halfway down his thighs. He's hard, from what Minghao can tell, and Minghao is too. They never really did have much time together, despite being drivers for the same team. All the moments they'd carved out for each other had been much like this—rushed blowjobs in Minghao's trailer, frantic fucking in Seokmin's room at two in the morning. Never enough for more than this. And perhaps that's what Minghao can read in Seokmin's eyes now. The want for more.

"Seokmin," Minghao says, and reaches up to cup his face. "It's okay."

Seokmin furrows his brows slightly, digs his fingers deeper into Minghao's shoulder. "Do you think I made a mistake? Should I have stayed?"

Minghao knows what Seokmin is asking. _Would you have wanted me to stay?_ Two years ago, the answer would have been no. He had his pride, and Seokmin had his own, and they'd both known that Seokmin staying was not the answer. But these days—with journalists posting articles titled _Did Red Bull Lose Their Best Candidate to Partner Minghao Xu?_ on the daily and every blundered race taking more and more out of his new partner Renjun—Minghao can't help but wonder if it would still be like this now. The thing is, Renjun is good—he is _very_ good—but he's also young and anxious and definitely not Seokmin. Minghao's not sure that anyone ever will be.

"Today was good," Minghao says instead, and it will have to be enough. He sees how the comment smooths out the lines in Seokmin's forehead, and he says it again. "It was good. _You_ were good. You did what you needed to."

Seokmin's fingers are tightening over his sleeve again, and his eyes are wide, shining in the dim lights of the jet's cabin.

"I want you," he says, like he's said so many times before, and Minghao tilts his head up to kiss him, because he can never say no to Seokmin like this.

It's like this that they fuck, with Seokmin hitched on top of Minghao's waist, his hand braced against the back of his seat and rolling his hips down onto Minghao's cock. It's messy, it's graceless, it's desperate—clumsily lipping at each other and panting into each other's mouths—as Minghao cants up without rhythm or finesse. Even like this, with every thrust ripping cries from Seokmin's throat, Seokmin is still endlessly taking, still gripping Minghao's shoulder like he has something to prove.

But Minghao can't give Seokmin back those years, the trophies he should have won or the races he should have topped. Minghao can't give him back his dignity, the scraps of his pride that Seokmin cobbled together to make a shield, the apprehension he'd worn plain on his face when he'd announced to a room full of press reporters that he'd be signing with Renault in 2019.

He can't give any of it to Seokmin, but Minghao can give him this—words murmured soft against his jaw, words that Seokmin deserved to hear so many times over, words that aren't quite all of Minghao's to give but ones that he'll give anyway. These are words that Minghao says, because they're words that Seokmin deserves to hear— _you're beautiful, you're perfect, you deserve this, you deserve more_.

And Seokmin takes it all. Takes it graciously, gracelessly, fiercely. But Seokmin's always taken everything he can and then some, so Minghao isn't surprised when he takes this too.

"You're so good," Minghao murmurs, hand curling around the knob of his hip bone, and fucks up deeper, listens to Seokmin gasp and whimper. "You're so _good_ , Seokmin, you were so good today—"

"Minghao—" Seokmin whines, bouncing helplessly on his lap. "Fuck, Minghao, _please_ —"

He is so inescapably beautiful, so full of light and yearning and want, and Minghao feels it deep in his gut, that same unrelenting desire for more. The one that makes him heady with it, _messy_ with it, eager to meet Seokmin at every thrust and give him back as much as he craves. Minghao gets his mouth on Seokmin's shoulder to suck, grips his waist with both hands, and grinds Seokmin down onto his cock. Seokmin comes with a whimpering cry, and Minghao closes his eyes and cants up messily until he follows.

And in the quiet moments immediately after, Seokmin's breathing leveling out into the side of Minghao's neck, Minghao decides that he still wouldn't have asked Seokmin to stay. Decides that this can be enough, will be enough, for him.

Seokmin peels himself back and angles a crooked grin down at him. "I could get used to this," he teases, still dewy and flushed down the neck, and Minghao presses his mouth to his collarbone.

"You'll have to keep the podiums coming," he mumbles against his skin, and feels the thrum of Seokmin's heart under his lips. It's beating fast, almost too fast, like his heart's going to beat out of his chest, but that's Seokmin.

He feels Seokmin's hands under his chin, and Minghao lets him tilt his head up to look at him. "I'll keep them coming regardless," Seokmin whispers, every word thick and swollen with conviction. Minghao believes him, because he doesn't have a reason not to. This won't stop him. Seokmin is 71 points behind him in the championship, but that doesn't matter. "All you need to do is watch me."

Minghao always has. From his first day in the Red Bull factory in Silverstone and Seokmin's hair was still long enough to curl around his ears, to Seokmin's last in Abu Dhabi, and Minghao had been too busy doing interviews to properly say goodbye. Even when the last of their team had switched their eyes over to Minghao, Minghao's had always stayed locked on Seokmin. He could do that for him.

Seokmin has always wanted more than the world could give him. Minghao can only give him so much, but he can give him this.

**Author's Note:**

> i should be sorry for going with the alex albon/renjun parallel, but like. they have the same birthday, it makes it so easy!!!!
> 
> anyway if you know you know. thank you for reading!! please comment if you liked T__T
> 
> [twt](http://twitter.com/plosionlateral) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/wayschanged)


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